A Ritual in Time and Death
by Draenog Glas
Summary: Experimental short story. May be interpreted as Sonadow if you want I guess.


Nothing made him deserve this fate. To be covered in black velvet darkness until the sun would poke through the sky again. Sharded teeth collected around his feet, anticipating, slowly, his bleeding feet. He would die in the darkness. No one would see him. Succumbing to the monster of incidental accidents itself.

Everything was louder when it was dark. Mice squeaked under the cupboards. Cars zoomed by, rustling their metallic growls and roars, and no one could hear him cry here. Wasn't afraid of anything, he said. I wasn't afraid of my entire life bleeding til she was only a red canvas. I disappeared from my only home. The home I felt comfortable in. Every shooting star I saw was a lie. But I was okay. I was here. Teeth serrated me. But I was still okay.

Creaks groaned above the staircase. Sonic was around, yet he felt the light above, therefore sounds were much dimmer and only dreadful whispers he tuned out. The bed whined as he jumped on it, falling asleep from exhaustion instantaneously. It was as if he heard an angel die as the crevices of light droned out, shadows delving him further.

He felt nothing for too long. Shadow never felt a tinge of pain or remorse that colored him rusted and decaying. Red marks were still glowing imperceptibly, but every candle that breathed out solemnly in the cavern whispered out. Faded, knowing there was someone who needed that glow, but they couldn't give it. The teeth had to shred and feed, until the sun was up.

Denying his fingers were quaking, the feet touching the tongue and knives that the monster waited eagerly for him to decide it was better to die than to wait for this light to come again, Shadow saw nothing, and he knew there might be nothing, for a long time.

It was supposed to be spring, but he denied he was shivering, the frost collected like glass ornaments by some sort of bored fairy that knew winter would soon have to travel until the end of the year.

There was his gray breath on the window pane, the ice pricking him like mischievous demons. His inattentive irises focused on the breath living, then flying to the sea of sky above. It was okay he said. It showed he was alive. Focus on the things that were still alive about you.

Blood was let out as his perishing scream dripped from him like a crying faucet. The breath crystallized on the starless window. Still alive. Ravishing triangles from the monster he never fully realized bit and tore and scarred and ate away everything he felt was okay. The screams were loud, painful, but had said nothing in the end.

His breath was quivering as a raw sliver of pink was blooming. No one was here still. Mice licked at his injured feet. The fridge hummed to itself, ignoring the agony that emanated around them. The teeth still gnawed at him. His body realized it, but his mind didn't. It wasn't okay to cry he told himself. They told you if you cried, then nothing was okay im the end, cause you were breaking down, you were desperate and pleading to anyone out there to save you. Nothing was to be saved. There was only himself to save, and no one could have that job but the one who was the most qualified to.

Hollow sounds rang from the ceiling. It was dark, but Shadow didn't hear them, or thought he could care to listen.

After the Earth was saved, ARK was shown to no longer be a place with those last remaining cherished memories, he was stitched together with care. He believed it so. Things fell apart soon after. Others knew, but he didn't want to witness it. If he had to stab his ears and eyes til they were numb, then it had to be, so no one could see him struggle with himself.

Struggling with yourself was one of the worst things anyone could witness, he said. People look with pity, but in the end, nothing could be done, until there was more light. Bleeding white wicks were common around him. The once blazing lamps and tile lights constantly went out, due to having to live in a slowly revived abandoned juncture. There could be needles left behind by those who burnt their own elixirs and fed themselves poison just to see a little light to get through. The needles only provided more blackness and more loneliness than before. Many of those who lit themselves to find their way soon charred and decayed. Reasonably so, Shadow said. Needles contained the scant artifices of life that was too broken to repair, and somehow, their disease would be caught on by his feet, hands, eyes.

A sunflower was growing from the fertile pastel blue earth. Who was there? He asked. Was anyone out there to save me? Am I going to die? Am I going to die before I accomplish anything really worthwhile? Am I going to die before I can make Maria happy? Was there atonement for the things that sickened and buried me further to the gums and teeth of this monster?

Blackness that once emanated around him grew miserable, and sulked away. Piano chords of birds lightened up his heart. His feet hurt, but death wasn't possible, and the blood was a reminder that he was here.

Light footsteps rang throughout the halls. His ears pricked to the sound of Sonic whispering to Tails on the phone. Light flooded the room at last, and life burst from every seam of the world in Shadow's eyes.

Sonic observed the broken dishes and glass around him. It was careless, accidental, but the cheerful spirit only smiled and said he would help pick up the pieces. Blood was absorbed by his sponge, and crushed away in the tearful sink.

Finally, to Sonic's surprise, Shadow spoke for the first time in several days.

"Good morning."


End file.
